Fingers pointed at my head, conspiring against me while the gentle notes of the piano played in the background. I hated elevators. They made math class look fun. I can't even walk into one without hearing an, "Ugh!” or an, "Oh my god!”
I stared at the buttons that indicated which floor we’d go to. Almost all of them had gum on them. Actually, that was my fault. It cracked me up whenever people pressed the buttons, and ended up with the pink, sticky stuff all over their stubby fingers. They deserved it for staring at me so much. (Add a part here about your looks and the stares you had to put up with).
As I looked around, I noticed one guy in particular was giving me looks, and was s a bit stranger than usual. I thought he might be more dangerous than the usual gawkers and starers. I thought he was stalking me (this had happened before too), and noting every one of my movements. Last time this happened the man followed me home one day and attacked me.
I really didn’t want to do what I did, but I didn't know what else to do. I pushed the fire alarm button and the elevator stopped. The siren noise went on for about ten seconds, which was when it happened.
I saw the lights implode in a blinding incandescence, and for a brief second, it was day. Just as quickly as it had come, it was darkness once more.
The man next to me, a complete stranger, begged for his life, saying that he would change his ways. What was happening? What I saw next made me angry. I couldn't believe it. My stalker was still noting down my actions. I heard the clanking of feet on a ladder beneath me. They were coming to fix the elevator and rescue us. I wanted to yell out in celebration, but I decided it would be best to not to give the stalker more stuff to record in his notebook.
I scolded myself for pushing the button on the 20th floor, but I thought I needed the diversion to avert the stalker's attention. In sight of the men who had fixed the elevator and opened the doors for us, I decided to actually go to him and ask him what he was doing and why he was writing down my every movement. He said nothing for while and I followed him onto the street. Finally, he told me that he was writing a script for a blockbuster-to-be movie called “Stuck in an Elevator with a Monster."
I snarled, drove his head into a lamppost, and walked off.
I stared at the buttons that indicated which floor we’d go to. Almost all of them had gum on them. Actually, that was my fault. It cracked me up whenever people pressed the buttons, and ended up with the pink, sticky stuff all over their stubby fingers. They deserved it for staring at me so much. (Add a part here about your looks and the stares you had to put up with).
As I looked around, I noticed one guy in particular was giving me looks, and was s a bit stranger than usual. I thought he might be more dangerous than the usual gawkers and starers. I thought he was stalking me (this had happened before too), and noting every one of my movements. Last time this happened the man followed me home one day and attacked me.
I really didn’t want to do what I did, but I didn't know what else to do. I pushed the fire alarm button and the elevator stopped. The siren noise went on for about ten seconds, which was when it happened.
I saw the lights implode in a blinding incandescence, and for a brief second, it was day. Just as quickly as it had come, it was darkness once more.
The man next to me, a complete stranger, begged for his life, saying that he would change his ways. What was happening? What I saw next made me angry. I couldn't believe it. My stalker was still noting down my actions. I heard the clanking of feet on a ladder beneath me. They were coming to fix the elevator and rescue us. I wanted to yell out in celebration, but I decided it would be best to not to give the stalker more stuff to record in his notebook.
I scolded myself for pushing the button on the 20th floor, but I thought I needed the diversion to avert the stalker's attention. In sight of the men who had fixed the elevator and opened the doors for us, I decided to actually go to him and ask him what he was doing and why he was writing down my every movement. He said nothing for while and I followed him onto the street. Finally, he told me that he was writing a script for a blockbuster-to-be movie called “Stuck in an Elevator with a Monster."
I snarled, drove his head into a lamppost, and walked off.